


It's a Dull Kind of Ache

by Nihiley_Face



Series: SFW Fics [6]
Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Cheesy Popcorn is the Shit, Depression, Depression and Fluff, Edd just wants to help, Feelings, Fluff, M/M, Pizza, Relating People to Sponges is a thing i do, Sort Of, That's What I'm Here to Write Y'all, fight me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-14 00:12:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13581930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nihiley_Face/pseuds/Nihiley_Face
Summary: Because, in all honesty? What did it matter?[Tom's depression gets to him a little, so Edd steps in and makes him some popcorn.]





	It's a Dull Kind of Ache

Sometimes it got bad. 

A lot of people described it like drowning. 

It wasn't really like that. For him, at least. 

It was like he just woke up in this hole he couldn't crawl out of. 

Like one of those giant test tubes in science fiction, where people would be stuck in suspended animation. Yeah, it was a lot like that. 

He couldn't breathe, it took a lot to move, he could barely speak, sometimes, and for some reason, his vision just kept getting worse and worse every day. Blurry. He kept squinting all the time. He didn't drive much before, but he drove even less, now that his vision's been getting worse. 

He can barely keep track of his thoughts on a good day. 

Today was not a good day. 

He really couldn't find it in him to get out of bed, this morning. A more extreme case of dysania than usual, huh? He buried his face in the plush of his pillows and sheets, covering his body in the pre-enjoyed warmth. A part of him wanted to cry, but he just couldn't find the motivation. What would it do? Would it help him? Matt said it was good for you, sometimes, but was it really? Maybe that was just some excuse to look weak. Who knows.

He missed having a child-like sense of wonder, curiosity and happiness. That blissful ignorance, believing that nothing could ever go wrong. He barely remembered having that feeling, possessing those sweet, sweet things, but he did. A very long time ago. Before things got bad. 

He remembered him and his father. It wasn't some long, drawn out memory, just a small scene. His father had taken him out fishing. The sun was shining brightly in his face, and he didn't like it, but he was with his dad, so he didn't see a reason to really dislike this day. 

Tom buried his face in the pillows and let out a dry sob. 

What was wrong with him?

He wasn't quite sure. 

He had too many feelings all the time. They weighed him down constantly, and he couldn't walk. He couldn't hold up these emotions. He pretended not to care, but he did. He cared a lot, actually. He was like some sort of sponge, sucking up all the feelings and hurting himself in the process. He was so full of feelings that it created this dull, empty ache in his chest, like they all wanted to escape, but where would they go? Nobody was around to catch them if he did, and what's the point of just spilling by yourself?

Not that he was alone in this world, he had friends. 

But he couldn't do that to them. 

He was sure they had the same feelings as him, and they cared just as much as he did. But if he squeezed out every drop and let them soak it up, they'd have the same dull ache as he did, and he could never live with giving them that kind of pain. And so, he was just destined to feel this way forever. 

He didn't really know what he was afraid of, though. 

Was it hurting them?

Or getting hurt, himself? Rejection?

No doubt, that was a factor. He could never deal with that kind of rejection, period. It would hurt him far too much. 

Everyone was already tired of his drunken crying at two in the morning, why would they want something like this?

To believe that someone like him was so insecure, huh? Honestly, it was insane. Tom seemed confident enough. Confident enough to treat himself like absolute garbage and not care about it afterwards. In all honesty, he didn't care because what was the point of caring? It's not like it mattered, there were a lot bigger things to care about, like politics and romance. It didn't matter. 

Maybe that's another reason he didn't get help. It didn't matter. 

Because, in all honesty? What did it matter? If he died, one less mouth to feed, one less drunken bastard in the world, one less asshole. 

He knows that his friends would tell him not to think like that. He knew it was dangerous, but he couldn't help it. It just hurt, and he needed a reason for it to hurt less. He wasn't sure if this made it less painful, but it's the way he's been thinking for years, and he was sure it could hurt a lot worse. 

"-Out of bed, yet-? Tom!" Edd snapped at Tom when he realized that he wasn't out of bed yet. Tom jumped, and looked apologetic. He buried his face back into his nest of comfy sheets and dirty clothes. "Dude, it's, like, noon, get the fuck up, already." Tom buried himself further into his bed. Edd groaned. "I have to do everything around here." He walked into the room, and shook Tom's shoulder. "Get. Up." He said, glaring. Tom kept his face in the pillows. Edd began to get irritated. "Dude, seriously, you've gotten, like, sixteen hours of sleep. Get up." Tom just turned away again. He mumbled into the pillows. Edd knitted his brows together. "What was that?" "Leave me alone." He said, his voice raspy and groggy, and maybe even a little shaky. Edd pursed his lips. 

"Tom," He said. "Are you feeling well?" Tom didn't answer. There was only one sure way to figure out what was going on with Tom. 

"Do you want pizza?" Tom's shoulders noticeably stiffened; he knew what was going on. It meant admitting to his friend that his mental health was kind of in the drain today, but this way, he didn't have to communicate what was wrong directly. It was a sort of code that Edd's mom had made up, and Edd passed it on to Tom when he needed it. Tom made a somewhat unsure sound, and Edd took that as a yes. "Do you want mushrooms?" Edd asked. Part of the code. Mushrooms was asking if he felt sick. Tom shook his head. "Do you want onions?" Translating to, "Is it your depression?" Tom nodded. "Do you want yellow squash?" That was a code yellow, meaning his day kind of sucked, but he was alright. Tom shook his head. "Do you want orange bell peppers?" Code orange, meaning his day was a little shitty, and he might want to be left alone for a while. Tom shook his head. "Do you want tomatoes? Or black olives?" Tomatoes meant that he needs the day off. Black olives means that he's suicidal and needs serious help. He was stuck between tomatoes and black olives. Edd knew what this silence meant, and sighed.

"I'll go get you some popcorn, okay?" Popcorn was one of his many comfort foods. Buttery, salty and perfect, it was everything that Tom wanted out of life, especially if you added cheese. Tom nodded and stayed in bed. He buried himself into his nest and tried not to listen to the chatter downstairs. There was a little bit of laughter, and Tom was a little bit envious, but Edd returned a few minutes later, a bag of hot, steamy, buttered and cheesed popcorn in his hand. He gave it to Tom, who sat up slowly and grabbed the bag, looking tired and sad. Figures. 

Edd turned on the television in Tom's room and put on a movie he knew would help Tom feel better. Caddyshack. It was everything a cheesy, American eighties movie should be, with sexual jokes, evil rich people and general bullshit that ended up all tying together in the end, somehow. 

He helped Tom set up a comfortable sort of nest to sit and relax in while they watched the movie and ate popcorn. When they were ready, Tom comfortably found himself leaning against Edd, eyes half-lidded while he halfheartedly ate some cheesy popcorn and even scoffed at the bad jokes the movie held. He let his weight rest against Edd's shoulder, which slowly moved to his chest has they adjusted themselves and the movie went on. Edd looked over to his left and saw Tom cuddling up against him and he smiled, bringing him in. 

Edd knew this wasn't the ultimate cure, the one thing that will make Tom feel better, one-hundred percent, but he knew that it might help him a bit to know he's not completely alone, and maybe, one day, if he ever gets comfortable enough, he might open up a little, and Edd might understand him a little bit better. He couldn't force it out of Tom, as he, (and only he), knows just how easily Tom gets hurt, and forcing him to open up against his will can certainly cause a pretty big bruise to his mental state. 

So even if all that he was able to do was nuke some cheesy, pound store popcorn and put on some shitty, American, it's-so-eighties-it-hurts movie, then so be it. That's exactly what he'll do. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you like depressing stuff like this, follow my Tumblr, where I post almost nothing but: @daddy-issues-anon.tumblr.com


End file.
